Lane is an endearing performer, but she needs something, anything, to work with. Here, she's getting by on sheer likability.

At least it could have been fun-bad, not just boring-bad.

There’s far too little of MacArthur’s strutting on display. Granted, that’s not the movie Webber was making. But you kind of wish it was.

All the action leads inexorably toward the unavoidable destination.

The best thing about the movie, by far, is Green. Her Artemisia is a real nut case with a taste for blood, and Green is the only one in the cast who seems to be having any fun at all.

Movies like this are supposed to be ridiculous on some level. It's part of the fun. But, dang. Falling through space, popping your parachute and landing on the one empty stretch of freeway in some bustling future city? C'mon. We all have our limits.

It's good enough for a brainless night of fun at the movies, though your enjoyment might hinge on your nostalgia for old-fashioned dude movies, complete with a soundtrack of wailing electric-guitar solos and a wealth of random topless babes. Unfortunately, it could have been a lot better if someone had taken out a hit on the script.

It's effective, entertaining in a remarkably uncomfortable way but entertaining all the same.

Red Right Hand wants to be a kudzu-covered, Southern-fried crime story, a morality tale set in the “hills” as rich as pig knuckles from a jar in a juke joint. Mostly it’s just a dopey mob movie with Southern accents of varying quality — predictable and cliched.

It is a somber slog through the lives of one miserable wretch after another.

The idea of dropping in on characters at different points in their lives can work - see "Same Time, Next Year" for how it should be done. Here, it simply puts a distance between the audience and two characters that aren't that interesting to start with.

Director Dome Karukoski guides the actors well with a perfectly British script containing dry, witty humor. However, the movie leaves one longing for a little more.

Admission is pleasant enough. Even when off a bit, the talent of the cast assures that. But it’s still a disappointment. You might say it, ahem, doesn’t make the grade.

You’d think a move about the potential for the destruction of universes would feel pretty high stakes, but this one doesn’t. Nor does it connect on the family drawn together through adversity front.

The Call of the Wild is a fascinating movie, visually.

The gossip will die down, presumably, but the film will remain. And what will stand out about it in the future is what stands out now: Pugh absolutely nailing the role of a woman trapped in a too-good-to-be-true scenario, and slowly coming around to that realization.

I Feel Pretty is a good idea that never quite clicks the way it should

Typically actors like Winslet and Elba can elevate even the most-pedestrian material, but making this story better would require a feat of superhuman strength.

The singing is terrific, particularly whenever Hudson belts out a number (and there is really no other way to describe her powerhouse vocals). But the story is trite and predictable, if heartfelt.

There are some scares here, in the same way that there is some pain when you hit your thumb with a hammer. Blunt force carries a lot of power. But there isn’t a lot of thought. It’s the same idea as the first movie, just not as well-done.

You come to a Godzilla movie for the epic fights, and on that front, Dougherty delivers.

Scott does a nice job with the first part of the film, setting the stage for what is ultimately a disappointing conclusion.

Percy Jackson isn't a great movie, but it's a good one, trotting out kernels of Greek mythology like so many Disney Channel references. For the most part, it works.

If you have young kids and want to spend two hours out of the house in a cool, air-conditioned theater, then go see “Haunted Mansion.” But if you can hold out until it’s released on Disney+ all the better. It’s really not worth spending money on the ticket.

The narrative feels undercooked, its life lessons just a bit too glib.

Loopers: The Caddie's Long Walk treads far too lightly upon a decades-long racial divide between caddies and golfers, falling silent on the subject as a hushed gallery during a backswing.

3 Generations feels focus-grouped into existence, like its every development was fine-tuned to be as inoffensively on-message as possible in its treatment of trans issues. That’s good for take-home pamphlets and afterschool specials, but deadly to dramas.

It offers Bratt maybe his best role ever as Che, a tough-guy neighborhood personality struggling to come to grips with his son's homosexuality.